


I Won't Get On My Knees For You (Unless I Want To)

by SerenityXStar



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Blowjobs, Confused Bakura, Cumslut Yami Marik, Helpful Marik, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oh yes, Yami Marik on his knees, ], first time blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 01:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9524981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityXStar/pseuds/SerenityXStar
Summary: 'This had started for himself more than Bakura.  He’d been watching the thief since their fight, calculating, trying to figure out how to chase that flavor.'Or, the one where Marik is sekretly a cumslut.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a nice little ficlet I wrote. It's a sequel to When My Fist Hits Your Face, though it can stand alone as well. Yami Bakura and Yami Marik. Marik's lighter half is mentioned also, so I went with an old tradition of calling the light half Malik and the dark half Marik. Just to hopefully stop any confusion. Anyway, hope you like it!

Bakura was sulking. He was not pouting, as Malik claimed. But sulking he could admit to. He looked again at his tender fingers, scowling before tucking his hand protectively against his chest, as if keeping it close and hidden would sooth away the hurt. Fucking cell phones.

Ryou hadn’t yelled too badly, which was a plus. He’d been more long suffering, shaking his head and muttering about being glad they’d gotten the extended warranty. It wasn’t his fault that the device had started to heat up. How was he supposed to know that sticking an opened paperclip into the port would do that? He’d just been trying to make the thing useful. Call, text, pick locks. The perfect tool.

Until it started smoking. And then the little flame.

He’d thrown it before it singed his fingers too badly, but they were still tender and pink, the insistent ache of a burn.

Fucking thing.

He’d skulked away and claimed a chair in the farthest corner he could find, folding himself into it and had stayed there, ignoring Malik’s attempts to draw him out with teasing, or Ryou’s gentle cajoling. Once he’d gotten over his annoyance and disbelief at the destroyed phone. But he’d resisted.

He didn’t notice the dark lavender eyes watching him. Calculating. Not until Marik was striding up to him, gaze fixed.

Bakura wasn’t in the mood for more snark. Or stupid questions. Or-

Marik moved quickly, reaching for Bakura’s knees as he sank to his own, pushing insistently, using the surprise to his advantage to work them open and settle himself between them, hands immediately reaching for Bakura’s pants, untying the loose string and tugging at them.

“What the fuck!” It was more of an exclamation than an actual question because.. what the actual fuck? He didn’t even have the presence of mind to try to tug his knees closed, though he reached for his pants with his good hand, trying to keep them on his hips.

Marik didn’t bother to answer, at first, growling and tugging again, harder. Bakura’s one handed grip was no match for Marik’s strength and the pants slipped down smoothly, leaving Bakura blinking and bare, chocolate colored eyes wide.

“You’re.. not feeling yourself.” He reached for Bakura’s dick, fingers firm in their grip, but careful. Not looking to add more hurt. “It helped me, last time.”

Bakura’s mouth opened and closed and he had a sinking suspicion that he resembled a fish, but words weren’t really working for him right now. “I- what- you-“

Marik chuckled, grinning up at the former thief, wrist flexing smoothly as he stroked him, feeling oddly proud when he felt him begin to harden, cock thickening under the attention. Instead of answering, he leaned forward, licking slowly over the head of his length, eyes fluttering shut at the taste. He’d caught the flavor when he’d kissed Bakura the last time but it was stronger here. Exactly what he’d been craving.

With a low groan, he wrapped his lips around the head and sucked, gripping at Bakura’s hip when he tried to arch up off the chair, the choked noise sending heat skittering down Marik’s spine.

It was more than he expected, far more, much faster. And the sight of Marik on his knees, that wicked mouth wrapped around him… If anyone had ever suggested this might happen he’d call them crazy. _Marik_ of all people. Sucking him like he was dying for it.

Bakura reached out and slid a hand into Marik’s hair, holding onto him, suddenly desperate for something to anchor him. Marik’s hair was surprisingly soft, the spikes bending to Bakura’s fingers and he reached out with his other hand, wanting to cling to Marik, to cradle him close. But it stung and he snatched his hand back with a hiss, holding it close to his chest.

Marik noticed. This had started for himself more than Bakura. He’d been watching the thief since their fight, calculating, trying to figure out how to chase that flavor. Bakura’s accident was the perfect opportunity. But despite wanting this for himself, craving it, he didn’t want Bakura to hurt. It should be an experience of pleasure.

He slid his head down farther, sucking. And even as he did, he reached up for Bakura’s hand, thumb very gently brushing over the back of his fingers, careful. Perhaps more careful than he’d ever been.

It was unsettling, making him feel off balance. The gesture was one of caring, infinitely tender. Reassuring almost. That, when paired with Marik, made Bakura’s worldview tilt oddly. Made it hard to focus, to do much more than whine, his good hand tightening in the blonde hair.

Marik kept Bakura’s hurt hand immobile, clasped in his own as he worked, away from harm. With the worry of it nullified, he found it much easier to enjoy the feel of Bakura’s cock in his mouth, hard, hot and heavy, stretching his lips satisfyingly. And the taste. Gods, he’d wanted it. He’d had to keep from begging for more the last time, looking for any lingering drop.

Now He could fill his mouth with it, suck Bakura down, work towards _more_.

Bakura had a passing thought that maybe they shouldn’t be doing this in the living room. But Ryou was in his room working on homework and Malik was watching a movie in his room and he didn’t care. They could both walk in and he’d whine at Marik to keep going.

In a few minutes, he wouldn’t even have to worry about it, actually. He groaned, ragged, hips restless under Marik’s hand as the hot pressure coiled tighter, making his back arch, his thighs tremble as he drew closer and closer.

His own cock was shouting at him. But it was overshadowed by the taste of Bakura’ the saltsweetbittermusk that was getting stronger. He knew he was getting close to having it and he couldn’t help but make a wanton noise in the back of his throat, practically desperate to have it.

That noise, low and dirty and pleading, was the beginning of the end for Bakura. It only took another couple bobs of Marik’s head, another burst of spinetingling pressure and he was gasping, hips hitching up as he broke and came, whimpering as he flooded Marik’s mouth.

It was so much better than he’d dared to hope. At the first blossom of Bakura’s flavor over his tongue, he shuddered, swallowing eagerly, sucking at the head of his cock. He moved the hand on the former thief’s hip, stroking him, milking out every drop he could earn. 

He felt flushed, too hot, like he could vibrate right out of his skin, and it actually took him a minute, took him until he pulled away from Bakura’s cock, gasping and open mouthed, before he realized that he’s come just after Bakura, sticky in his pants.

Bakura collapsed back into the chair, swallowing thickly, blinking to refocus on Marik. He looked about as wrecked as he felt and he tugged weakly at the blonde hair, with it enough to realize that Marik probably wanted to come too. He earned a head shake and he stopped pulling, confused.

Marik’s voice was rough when he answered, used. “I came, Bakura.”

“W-what? But.. I didn’t-“

Marik smirked, eyes still a little hazy, cheeks flushed. He feels drunk with his victory, with the taste lingering in his mouth. “You didn’t have to. It was enough.”

Bakura just blinked, incredulous. “Sucking me off made you come?”

Marik didn’t bother to correct him. He’d never hear the end of it as it was. Rather than reply, he turned his head, licking a long stripe up Bakura’s cock while holding his gaze.

The breath Bakura let out was shaky, his eyes gone wide.

With a smirk, Marik pushed to his feet, ignoring the stiffness in his knees and the wet patch on the front of his pants, and turned, sweeping away, hips swaying smugly as he left to find a change of clothing, Bakura’s gaze burning into his back.


End file.
